Tonna's Home
The house was still half-asleep when Amy stepped out of her room. She was clad in an all-black ensemble: a long-sleeved turtle-neck top that hugged her torso, highlighting her curves, tucked into black high-waisted denim trousers that accentuated her long legs and hips.
Her long black weave cascaded over her shoulders, framing a face defined by dark makeup. Black eyeshadow, sharp eyeliner, and matte black lipstick. Adorned with large black sunglasses and black strap high heels, she looked like a female lead straight from an action movie, or perhaps the gorgeous, lethal leader of a mafia gang. Her tiny waist swayed fluidly as she moved, exuding confidence and danger.
Tonna, who had his morning coffee in hand, spotted her from across the living room tiptoeing and sauntered over, his eyebrows shooting up in amusement mixed with a hint of concern. He was dressed casually, in jeans and a faded tee.
"Who are you going to kill in that outfit?" he asked, half-grinning with amusement in his voice.
She pulled out a pair of black leather gloves from her pocket and drew them on, snapping them tight around her wrists.
"Some useless chickens," she replied, her voice low and even.
"Don't you think I should be dramatic after coming back from the dead?"
He shook his head slowly, a wry smile spreading across his face, and gave her a thumbs-up.
"Point taken. You look like you could take down an army. But are you sure about the dramatic makeup? You sure want to give them hell because ooof."
He bit his lower lip as he looked her over, a teasing seduction in his eyes.
"That's the point." she countered, looking straight at him.
"Because for the show today, the chicken's involved will never forget today."
''and..''
She drawled giving him a once over look
"You are coming with me," she stated, matter-of-factly, and started walking toward the front door.
Tonna pointed at himself, genuinely confused.
"Me? Why am I coming too? I thought this was your solo Act."
Without answering, she walked back, grabbed his hand, and pulled him outside. In the compound sat a huge, intimidating black motorbike, two helmets resting on the seat. She dragged him over, placed a helmet firmly on his head, then donned hers. She bent low, climbed onto the bike, and urged him to do the same with a sharp tilt of her chin.
He hesitated, eyeing the powerful machine, but quickly climbed aboard, instantly wrapping his hands securely around her tiny waist. She started the bike, and it roared to life, a deep, throaty growl.
"Wait, where are we going?" he yelled over the engine's noise, his face close to the back of her helmet.
"To do something fun, you always love fun things, don't you? . well, today make sure to enjoy the show"
She yelled back, a wicked edge in her voice, before twisting the throttle and driving off.
AT THE MARMALADE RESTAURANT
They rode for about fifteen minutes, the speed and noise causing an innate rush, before stopping abruptly in front of a high-end restaurant called The Marmalade. Tonna scrambled off immediately, gagging and fumbling desperately with his helmet. Amy calmly dismounted, placing her helmet on the seat next to his, turning off the engine. She stood cross-legged, leaning against the bike, watching him struggle to regain his balance.
After four agonizing minutes, Tonna walked towards her, looking visibly pale and winded.
"W-wher-e d-did y-you-u get-t t-the b-bik-ke-e f-fr-rom?" he managed to gasp out, leaning against a pillar.
"Rachel and Tony helped me rent it. They are apparently quite fond of your dramatic flair."
She did not miss the confused look on his face
"Those two, when did you get so clo-"
He muttered through gritted teeth, already planning their retribution for putting him on a projectile of death.
"Don't even bother. I know you've long known about how close I am with them.''
He cleared his throat awkwardly
''Well, what are you waiting for? Let's go. The show is about to start." She pushed off the bike and walked confidently toward the restaurant entrance.
Inside, Amy's eyes scanned the room and immediately spotted her targets: six women were sitting around a table, brightly dressed, laughing and taking pictures as they picked at their breakfast.
Tonna grabbed a nearby table, seating himself down. He picked up a menu, holding it up and pretending to read it, but his eyes were fixed on the approaching drama. A really good show was about to start, and he could feel the adrenaline already pumping.
A waiter approached his table, blocking his view. "What would you like, sir?"
Annoyed, Tonna gave an impatient hand flip, waving the waiter away. "I'll order when I am ready. Don't block the view."
The young woman, slightly put off by his attitude, nodded politely and started walking away, muttering curses under her breath.
Amy, meanwhile, had reached the table. The closer she got, all the taunting, those false accusations, and the harrowing experience of being beaten and bloodied were replayed in her mind, fuelling her resolve.
She stood over them. The women, deep in conversation, hadn't even noticed her.
The original scene flashed in her memory:
"You homewrecker! Leave our husbands alone!" one cried.
"You made my husband waste my children's school fees on you!" another shouted.
"My own husband brought this witch into our bed!"
Amy staggered back, horrified. "I don't even know you people!"
The painful dialogue echoed relentlessly. The feeling of the sand and stones, the dirty look everyone present that day gave her, and the humiliation.
No more.
As soon as she reached their table, she raised her hand and delivered a heavy, open-handed slap across the face of the woman closest to her—the one who had first thrown the accusations. The sound cracked through the general restaurant noise.
The woman shrieked. Amy delivered another precise, powerful slap to the woman next to her. Then a third, and a fourth.
They all stood up instantly, shock plastered across their faces, as the entire restaurant turned its attention to them. Tonna, from his vantage point, was stifling giggles into his menu.
"What the hell are you doing?" yelled the first woman who had been hit, rubbing her cheek.
Amy put one high-heeled foot on the table with a decisive clang, startling the women into silence.
"What the fuck is this? Who the hell are you putting your hands on us?" another woman shrieked, outraged.
The woman who had led the lynching attempted to slap Amy in retaliation, but Amy's reaction was lightning-fast. She caught her hand mid-air and slammed her across the face with a backhand so hard the woman stumbled back into her seat, momentarily stunned.
One of the other women grabbed a water jug and attempted to empty the contents on Amy. Amy held up one hand, caught the jug, turned it swiftly, and emptied the cold water over the woman's perfectly styled hair.
The remaining three women tried to gang up on her. Coincidentally, a young man was walking by with a large tray containing three bowls of very hot spicy pepper soup—a not too light or thick consistency, steaming mess ready to be served—when a nearby diner happened to "accidentally" walk into the waiter, causing him to lose his balance and lose his grip on the heavy tray.
The contents landed with sickening precision on the remaining three women, covering their hair, their expensive clothes, and their faces. They screamed, partly from the searing pain of the hot food and it's spiciness, and mostly from the sheer horror and humiliation.
Amy looked in Tonna's direction, seeing the smirk on the other's face, told her Tonna had planted them. She would be silly if she said she was surprised that Tonna already knew of her plans, but had put down some safety nets for her, just in case something went wrong. She chuckled internally. Somehow, this man was glowing, like a child watching their favourite show from where he sat.
The "accident" man, who was actually Arnold's recruit, quickly apologised profusely, winked discreetly at Tonna, and exited the restaurant. Tonna smiled, nodded, and turned his full attention back to the table, enjoying the chaos.
Flashback: A Few Minutes Ago
Tonna was on the phone with Arnold while making his morning coffee when Amy was getting ready earlier.
"Boss, she's been investigating where they often gather, so I did as you asked and discreetly led her to the Marmalade Restaurant. She already made plans"
Arnold said over a secure line.
"Are they meeting there today?" Tonna asked, recognising the name of the place.
"Yes, they are. They always meet there for Breakfast on Wednesdays."
Tonna sighed. "It seems like today is looking up after all. Ever since I showed her those documents, she's been in her room, always on her computer. My guess was right, then. Arnold, get me someone who can infiltrate the waiters in the restaurant. Someone we can use at the right time. Also, disguise yourself and go wait for us there. I'll need eyes on the ground."
"Boss, do you think something will go wrong? I mean, a public assault is heavy." Arnold sounded wary.
Whatever her plan was, they were sure it would be public, and where the public was involved, depending on how she played her cards, they could either be in her favour or against her
"To counter any unexpected outcome, it's better to be prepared just in case"
Tonna said, his voice calm.
"Let's play it by ear. When things seem to be getting out of control, let's nip it in the bud, understand? We're protecting her, not stopping her."
"Yes, boss! I'll make the arrangements. My best guys are already on the ground, disguised."
Arnold replied, ending the call. And that was when Tonna walked out to see Amy dressed for blood.
Back to the Present
"Ah, are you blind?" one of the women yelled at the retreating waiter.
"I am so sorry, I didn't mean it. I am sorry," the busser repeatedly apologised, before scurrying away, just as a young waitress walked to where the women were, a panicked look in her eye
Amy walked up to the young waitress who was helping the now-sopping women. Amy gently raised the waitress's head.
"Don't be afraid. What's your name?"
The soaking woman looked up, furious. The other diners watched, silent, phones recording.
"Linda," the waitress whispered, scared.
"Such a pretty name, Linda. You don't have to be sorry for these snakes," Amy said clearly, loud enough for the restaurant to hear.
Gasps rippled through the restaurant. The women were appalled.
"What would you deny it?" Amy turned, folded her arms, and addressed the group.
"This crazy woman, who the fuck are you? I don't even know you. I have never seen you before in my life. So why would you call us snakes?" the leader of the group shrieked, trying to wipe soup from her face.
"So out of the Six of you, none has ever seen me before. Are you all sure about that?"
Amy asked, her voice dangerously soft.
"Are you Insane? You walk up to us, slap us, and humiliate us when we don't even know who you are! Aren't you a troublemaker looking for cheap publicity and easy pay? Now you have gotten your two minutes of fame,"
The woman snapped, pulling a phone from her purse.
"There's evidence everywhere; look at all the cameras. You are in a lot of trouble, young lady."
She held the phone to her ear.
"Hello, please. We are being harassed by a woman, constituting a nuisance to the public. Please… yes, at the Marmalade restaurant. She went crazy and assaulted six people. We have proof and eyewitnesses, too. Thank you, we'll be waiting."
She stared at Amy arrogantly. Amy was not the least bit fazed. The restaurant was buzzing with whispers, many calling her crazy. Her demeanour remained perfectly relaxed. Her eyes pierced the leader's defiant gaze.
"This is your last chance. Are you still standing by on what you said, that you have never met me?"
She took off her black sunglasses, revealing eyes burning with fury and irritation, before casually throwing the glasses onto the table.
"Have a very good look. Have you never seen this face before?"
Something about the way she spoke, the intense, haunted anger in her eyes, sent a chill down their spines. They were starting to get scared, and it showed in their fleeting expressions of doubt.
"We have never met you before, you, this crazy woman. Why are you forcing us to know who you are? Or did you get the wrong people?"
One of them insisted, clinging to the one who seemed like their ring leader. The fear in her eyes was evident even as she tried so hard to hide it.
Amy scoffed, a sound of utter contempt. She took off her leather gloves and threw them onto the table as well.
"Remember you said it with your own mouths. You six really have a death wish, and I am more than happy to oblige."
In a move that stunned the entire room, she grabbed the head woman who led the lynching, slamming her face down onto the hard tabletop with a sickening thud. The woman cried out, her face pressing into the sticky remnants of the soup.
"I am Amy Bems,"
Amy hissed into the woman's ear. The woman's breath caught in her throat. That name as she knew it was supposed to be dead and gone,
"And I am here to collect the debt you owe me."